SowLump: Canada's Finest School of Wizardry
by Tru Eve
Summary: Don't Worry, it has nothing to do with Canada. Eloise's dreams comes true, because she's going to Hogwarts... college. Hopefully a unique way of dealing with a subject that's been done to death. Rated for later romance etc.


**SowLump: The Finest School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in Canada**

_by TruEve_

**Don't Worry, it really has nothing to do with Canada**

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**_Disclaimer: All owned by J.K. Rowling except for Eloise, her family, Yale, Princeton and Georgetown._

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From about middle school on, the most famous and best selling book was not the Bible or the Encyclopedia Britannica, it was Harry Potter. In the beginning, Eloise had read the series, and adored it, and fawned over it, wishing with her entire soul that it could be real somewhere. Then, as the initial novelty of the glorious text had worn off, she pretended to be disinterested, a rebel against the majority of students in her grade, still reading them of course, in secrecy. And finally, once high school dawned over the horizon, Eloise was too wrapped up in her dramatic life and swift, intense teenage emotions to do little more with the books than read them as they came out and rant about how she felt that J.K. Rowling was letting all the fame and fortune effect her writing.Now that college was on the brink of collapsing in full force around her, Eloise simply waved off the fantasy books, claiming she was too old for them. It didn't _really_ matter that even her grandparents were reading the books religiously.

The most poisonous thing about the books was the fact that everyone could relate, to either Harry, or Ron, or Hermione… or Draco. Eloise had always seen herself as more of a Harry, really. Her parents had never been adept at... parenting, and she'd always been overshadowed by her perfect older sister, her own, unique talents completely ignored. She'd been terribly unpopular in middle school, but as high school came around and her confidence had bloomed, Eloise had risen through the teenage ranks and set herself rather close to the top. During her self-searching middle school years, though, her loneliness and failure drove her into the fantasy sections of the library, and she found herself pouring over Tolkien and McCaffrey novels, imagining herself part of them. She was much too different to be a normal human, after all.

When Harry Potter had hit the scene, Eloise had hoped that maybe this would be her solution. It would explain a lot: her fixation on magic, her feelings of unique-ness, all of it. But, her 11th birthday had come and gone, and she was still a normal, everyday Muggle. The morning after the conclusive birthday, she had almost ripped up her entire collection. Clear thinking had, in the end, saved the books.

Eloise had comes to terms with it, realizing slowly, painfully, that all her feelings of not belonging were simply teen angst, that her family would never spawn a hell raising, all powerful, totally kick ass wizard. And if they did, he or she would not be accepted to the most renowned, secret, wizardry school in the world, where they'd been practicing marvelous, science-defying tricks for centuries.  
True, it'd been difficult, but she'd done it.

This, she realized as she now looked at the pile of college acceptance and rejection letters on her dining room table, was certainly not what she needed six months before her world would be turned upside down by pure independence. For, on top of the pile, covering a suspiciously small letter from Yale, and another from Georgetown, was some prankster's idea of a hilariously funny joke. It was, without a doubt, a very odd looking letter with a return address from 'Hogwarts: England's leading school of Witchcraft and Wizardry.'

Eloise was not laughing.

Hell, the sucker couldn't even be original. She could already think of three better ones: 'Frogpimple' 'Pigbump' 'Sowlump', they could have even put it in Canada or something, if they just wanted to get a laugh.

It was then that her mother, a rather exhausted and very bored corporate lawyer, opened the apartment door, sighing her obvious 'shouldn't-I-be-happier-at-home-than-at-the-office?' sigh. "Hello honey, did you get your letters?"

"Uh," Eloise quickly hid her joke letter, and nodded, "I don't think I got into Yale." Her mother frowned. It had been expected that Eloise would follow her sister to Princeton, but Eloise's grades hadn't been good enough for her to get a full scholarship, so they'd settled on Yale as a close alternative. "And it doesn't look like I got into Georgetown either." Eloise could almost see the already low expectations her family had of her sinking slowly into the very basement of the building.

Her mother shook her head and placed her briefcase on the table next to the pile, "I thought you didn't want to go to Georgetown."  
Eloise didn't, but it was better than state college. She really didn't need her family to see her sink _that_ low. "Of course I did, I was just hoping for Yale."

Her mother nodded and patted her daughter awkwardly on the shoulder, "It's okay, honey, not everyone is fancy college material, state college is good too."

* * *

Two hours and a painful conversation with her father later, and Eloise sat on her bed staring at the letter, her initial annoyance growing increasingly stronger until she hurled the letter on the ground, and stamped on it for good measure. What were those idiots thinking? That after reading rejection letter after rejection letter, the poor kids would get a little chuckle after seeing their only acceptance letter was from a fantasy school that didn't even exist? 

She was still not laughing.

Eloise whirled on her bookshelves, determined to, this time, do her Potter books in, but ended up stopping and staring. Where her complete series (1-6 at the time) was_ supposed _to be sitting, there were only a few McCaffery books she'd never heard of, and a new series by Tamora Pierce. This was going way too far.

They'd stolen her books. Those idiot jokesters had stolen her books.

She snatched the letter off the floor and ran out into the living room, waving it around like an idiot. "Someone stole my Harry Potter books!"

Her parents both looked up from where they were watching televisions and exchanged skeptical looks, "Excuse me, but your _what_ books?"

She rolled her eyes and sighed, "Harry Potter? You know? J.K. Rowling? Only the most popular children's fantasy series of the modern era."

Her mother raised an eyebrow, "I was under the impression that Roald Dahl was the most successful children's novelist, and his books, as far as I'm aware, have nothing to do with hairy pots."

"Roald Dahl is dead, mom."

"Yes. What's your point?"

Eloise stared. Whoever the jerk was that was playing this trick on her was, they had apparently paid her parents quite a sum of money to keep with it. Her mother was notorious for her terrible lying skills. "You're telling me that you've never, ever heard of Harry Potter? The Sorcerer's Stone, The Chamber of Secrets, The Prisoner of Azkaban, The Goblet of Fire, The Half-Blood Prince….?"

Her mother looked annoyed, and very exasperated, "Look, I'm sorry. I don't usually read children's fantasy novels."

Eloise studied the letter in her hand, and tentatively ran her nail along the top, opening it as best she could.

"What have you got there?" Her father said, trying to make out the small print on the front from his seat half-way across the room.  
She tugged out the first paper that touched her finger tips, ignoring the other parchments that got pulled out as well as they fell to the floor. What she saw looked as though it had just been ripped out of the first Harry Potter book itself:

* * *

HOGWARTS SCHOOL

_of _WITCHCRAFT _and _WIZARDRY

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore

(_Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,_

_Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)_

Dear Ms. Louis,  
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.  
Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.

Yours Sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall,  
_Deputy Headmistress_

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As Eloise stared blankly at the letter, grappling with the idea that it _might_ be real, maybe, in some parallel universe, in some crazy, amazing, awesome parallel universe, her father, recognizing that his daughter was wrapped up in something all together unhelpful to him, rose and went over, snatching the other paper off the ground. What he read was obviously the enclosed list of all necessary books and equipment, because as he read his face screwed up and he laughed, "One plain pointed hat? _Magical Theory_? _A Beginners' Guide to Transfiguration_? _ The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection_? One wand? First year students not allowed _broomsticks_? What is this, some kind of joke?"

Eloise quickly snapped out of it and grabbed the paper out of his hand, "Yes." She said shortly, "That's probably it. Some idiot's idea of a joke."

Hurrying back into her room she stashed the letters under her mattress, and screamed, rather loudly, into her pillow. Whoever the idiot was, she was going to kill them. This was starting to freak her out.

* * *

In the end, she decided to ignore the whole thing entirely. She got enrolled in state college, and forgot about Harry Potter and her letter, and the annoying idiot who had her books. Besides, she wasn't going to need those juvenile things where she was going. 

Eloise almost succeeded too. As time went on and summer approached, she began to forget everything about Harry Potter, from the name of the author to plot lines and details. No one else at school mentioned getting a prank letter. In fact, everyone seemed to stop mentioning the subject of quidditch and Dumbledore all together. Which, Eloise thought, suited her fine.

So, when summer finally came and she lay in bed reading the newest _Rolling Stone_, the owl that started knocking on her window only scared her. A lot. She screamed and dropped her magazine, not that anyone was home to hear. She stared at the owl, who appeared to be holding a letter in one talon, and the owl stared back.

Slowly it dawned on her. Something about a book, and birds that delivered mail. She could have sworn they were ravens though. Ravens and their claws, that held the letters. Shaking her head to try to clear her vision, Eloise picked up her magazine and proceeded to ignore the bird.

The bird, however, would not be ignored, and started tapping on the glass again. And Eloise ignored him.

After about 30 minutes or so, the bird got bored, and started tapping out songs. He was a rather talented little fellow, and Eloise enjoyed his rendition of The Hollies' Bus Stop, and even tolerated his horrible version of NSync's I Want You Back. When he launched into Britney Spears' Toxic, though, Eloise groaned and went to the window.

She opened it, and as the bird hopped onto her bed, she told him, rather severely that she hated him, and he should stick to carrying mail because no one would ever pay to hear him tap.  
He dropped the letter on her bed, and she shifted, hoping he'd fly out so she could throw the letter after him and never think about it again. She'd found that tactic to be quite useful, but the bird just stared at her, waiting for her to look at her letter.

With a sigh, she sat down on her bed and picked up the letter, groaning as she read the heading, "You have got to be kidding me."

* * *

HOGWARTS SCHOOL

_of _WITCHCRAFT _and _WIZARDRY

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore

(_Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,_

_Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)_

Dear Ms. Louis,  
It has come to our attention that we have not received a response owl from you as of yet. As you know, it is past the due time, but as a prospective student with both parents of Muggle blood, it is policy to send a second letter and a courtesy owl to carry your response.  
Please inform of us of your decision either way so we may make sleeping arrangements for all future students. You have 2 days.

Yours Sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall,  
_Deputy Headmistress_

P.S. Wing likes apples.

* * *

Eloise turned and glowered at the owl who was now perched on her shoulder. "I take it you're Wing?" 

Wing rubbed her soft, feathered head against Eloise's cheek, and Eloise heard the apartment door open.


End file.
